Piano Lessons
by Lulu-ichigo
Summary: 'The piano sings to us in magnificent ways.' Young Gokudera and his beloved mom. Please RxR. anonymous reviews are accepted.


A/N: I began to write this one amidst my reviewing frenzy (If ever such a word existed) for the finals. Holy Lambo, I promised myself to stay away from my damn laptop for that night because I was reviewing for chemistry. But in the end I abandoned my notes and wrote this instead. *sigh* hopeless me. Gocchan might be OOC here; you judge. And, the sentences that are italicized are flashbacks. Well, move on and do leave a comment. :)

Disclaimer: i do not own... okay, i'm just an amateur writer, don't shove it to my face too much disclaimer. .

XXX

"I… have something to do, so I uh… I'll be excusing myself for today, Tenth. I'm deeply sorry for not being able to accompany you home!" he bows deeply, making Tsuna step back.

"It's alright," Tsuna smiled, motioning to stop the silver haired teen from his ever so extravagant apology.

"I'm really, really sorry… I'll make it up to you tomorrow, I promise. Well then, I'll see you tomorrow Tenth!" he beams cheerfully, looking at Vongola's Decimo.

"See you, Gokudera-kun." The brunette replies, a smile grazing his lips.

The silver haired storm guardian grunts, then looking at Yamamoto. "Baseball nut."

"See yah." The black haired rain guardian replies with a chuckle.

Then, Gokudera Hayato rushes away, dissolving in to the cloud of people.

When he was sure he was no longer visible to the eyes of his two companions, he slowed down, put his hands on his pockets and frowned.

He frowns all the time but maybe today it's not for annoyance or from anger.

He exhales and continues strutting along the streets of Namimori, suddenly feeling heavy and unpleasant.

'_The piano sings to us in magnificent ways. The music it gives us steers our hearts and dissects our souls to what they really are; it strips us from the masks we wear everyday that hide us from the reality we always avoid.'_

He hears her loud and clear, like she was right there beside him, smiling; her hair so similar to his in every strand and her skin pale but glowing. Her smell; the smell of spring flowers and vanilla; hang around him like a pleasant mist.

He almost closed his eyes to see her again, to sense her warm aura that made him feel loved.

But he remembers she's gone, long gone, and nothing could ever bring her back again.

He continues to walk eventually leading to a familiar sight.

He stumbled upon a shop where a grand piano, lacquer black in color, stood proudly.

He remembers the time he played that _thing_; a small child with stubby fingers who didn't know anything but to eat, sleep, and play. He was just a naïve little child who didn't understand anything; why his father forced him to take piano lessons, why his 'mother' looks at him indifferently, and why his sister seems so distant and cold. But stupid little kid, he goes on, smiles obediently and nods willingly at the commands given to him. He agrees to anything and everything because that's just how reality wants him to act.

He didn't know anything and that's what sucked the most. He feels fucking stupid because he just stayed silent.

He enters the shop, grabbing the door handles and pushing it open. Tiny bells clashed on to each other making sounds that irritated him.

"Good afternoon," an old man greets him smiling, although the smile almost drowned in the man's wrinkles. He stops polishing a red guitar and puts it down slowly. "How may I help you young man?"

He ignores the old man's words and stares carefully at the piano a few arms' length from him. He notices some scratches on the side; some chipped edges here and there. It was obviously repainted. _'You played well and hard haven't you?' _he told the black musical instrument, though, of course not out loud.

"That piano came from a pianist that's very famous now." the man's old voice sounded shaky but Gokudera knew he was speaking the truth. "As popularity came, the pianist went and bought some new piano; leaving this one in the trash. Quite harsh, no?"

Sea green eyes averts to the piano. That's not a common thing to do by pianists. Well, not by _him_ at least, or any other pianists he knew of. Musicians tend to develop a bond with the instruments they play. Maybe the fucktard was playing for fame. Tch. What a bastard.

"Do you want to play?" the old man asked, smiling gently.

Gokudera looked at him. "How'd you know I –"

"The way you looked at it made me think you were talking to it; making a connection. You know young man; there aren't many people that do what you do anymore. Why, if someone was seen talking to a musical instrument, the poor guy would be sent to the mental ward immediately!" he laughs, but it sounded more like a wheeze. "Well, go on. I won't charge you of it." he turns slowly and walks away, picking up the rag he left earlier and continues polishing.

The silver haired teen stood there, motionless, wondering why he had gone to the stinkin' shop in the first place. He glares half-heartedly at the lonely instrument, undecided.

'_What do you do when it's the first time you play a certain piano, Hayato?'_

He hears her again in his head, slowly making him approach the instrument.

'_You greet it and then you introduce yourself. And when it recognizes you, you can ask permission to play it.'_

"It's been a long time since someone played through your keys, hasn't it?" he murmurs, touching it. "I'm Gokudera Hayato." He slides familiarly to the seat, puts his feet on the pedal, and glides his fingers on the keys' surface, aiming them on C.

He presses three keys on both hands, playing the chords from there.

"Thank you." He mutters, almost smiling. He changes his hands' position.

It has been so long since he last played the piano he once loved.

He remembers he stopped playing when he ran away from everything he came to know. He left everything, every fragment of the child he was; family (he wonders if _they _were genuine), comfort, love (he wonders if _they_ ever gave that to him,), innocence, and everything in between that shaped him as the youngest son of a certain Mafioso.

He left everything because he knew that those things were weaknesses.

And the weak will continue being what they are if they don't abandon the weights they carry.

'_Why do you play the piano, Hayato?' _

He hears her again, now clearer and louder. He closes his eyes, exhales and presses the keys.

'_I play because… Father told me to.' He answers honestly, looking at the beautiful woman in front of him. His young sea green eyes search for her approval._

'_I see.' She answers, rather disappointed. There was a hint of sadness in her voice but a youngster like him isn't entitled to know or even ask those kinds of things. 'So it's a requirement, a responsibility. Yes?'_

'_Yes.' He replies, rocking his legs back and forth. 'And you?'_

'_The first time I played the piano… well, not really played,' she rephrases her thoughts and starts again. 'The first time I _heard_ the piano's music… I thought to myself, I want to play that thing because it makes such beautiful sounds!' she exclaims as if it was the greatest thing she ever said. 'But when I went on with my piano lessons, I discovered something. Playing a musical instrument isn't just about making wonderful sounds. It has a deeper meaning, you know, a deeper bond that develops from it. Sometimes you'll want to play to please others; sometimes you want to just play for yourself. Sometimes it serves as a release of emotions, and then sometimes it serves as a medium of expression. It differs from everybody, but I tell you this, and listen closely because this will be the most important thing I will tell you as a pianist; you can't play just because somebody told you to. You have to discover the true reason for yourself. And when that happens, I guarantee you, you will be the happiest person alive.' she ends her word with a smile, pointing out a finger as if to teach a lesson._

_Hayato nods, even though a kid like him would have not understood half of what she said. He takes her word to his heart, because something tells him that what she said was gravely important._

'_When the time comes that you find what you are playing for, can you tell me what it is?'_

'_Okay.' He agrees obediently, and she smiles again in approval. 'And your reason?'_

' _Hmm…' she puts a finger on her chin, then, in the Eureka moment, she says softly, 'I play for the person I love the most. I play for him, for him to know how much I love him and miss him everyday. I play for him to tell him the words I cannot say, so that when he hears my music, his heart will understand me.'_

'_Isn't it easier to tell him directly?' he asks, tilting his head._

_She smiles sadly, looking at him with eyes as if trying to say something. He feels her sadness, and tries to unlock her words to find out the reason behind it. 'Is he far away?'_

'_Yes,' she answers breathlessly. 'Very far away…'_

The old man shoved away some old newspapers, some he throws to the trash, and some he stacks neatly on a chair. When everything was cleared, he pushes a few buttons and turns something to its max. He smiles then and sinks back to his seat, grabbing a clean cloth and polished another guitar.

'_Where do you play?' he asks her as he watched her open the lid of the piano._

'_Sometimes at a restaurant, sometimes in hotels and theatres,' she smiles at him and sits comfortably on the seat provided._

_His eyes grow a little larger in amazement. 'Cool.'_

_She giggles. 'You think so?'_

'_Uh-huh. All I do is play for some old men dressed in suits.'_

'_You're playing for the richest and the most powerful of men in the mafia,' she reasons. 'Isn't that a privilege?'_

'_I don't _want_ to play for those kinds of people.' he answers back, pouting. 'Tell me about your performances.' He averts the conversation away from the path it was heading. He really didn't like those things. 'How do you play in front of many people?'_

'_How do I play?' she repeats and stands up, stepping a few away from the piano. 'Of course, I give my thanks first to the people who lent me their time to come and listen to my performance.' She smiles and bows gracefully at Hayato. The silver haired boy smiles back and nods in recognition. 'And then, I now walk to Dustella.'_

_From the time they began talking to each other, she had been talking about her piano, which she named Dustella for the reason the said musical instrument seemed to pick up a lot of dust for no clear reason._

'_Then I greet her.' she sits primly and touches the white keys. 'Well, today, I'll be playing with you Pesche-chan [1].'_

_She named Hayato's piano that because she smelled peaches when she saw the said piano for the first time._

'_And then, when my partner's ready,' she nods at the piano and places her fingers on the keys, 'we shall play.'_

_She strikes a force through the keys, making a deep sound resonating in the room. It appeared to Hayato that she cloaked herself with another persona; almost making her indistinguishable. After a few heart beats, her slender fingers seemed to dance on the cloud white keys, making somewhat of a rumbling sound, making the child anticipate. Her body moves along with every shift of key and every step on the pedal. She closes her eyes for some brief moments; her brow knits ever so slightly when the piece wanders to the low parts and her lips part lightly when the notes go high. She shifts near to the end of her seat when the melody is fast and exciting and she lets her frame be taken away with the music when the tune is steady and calming._

_He sees her passion and her love. He recognizes the piece; one of Frederic Chopin's most famous composition. [2]_

_And then he notices there was no sheet on the music stand. She was playing from her memory._

_He rises from his seat and claps his hands._

_XXX_

_One afternoon she visited and played another piece for him (he insisted) and another, and another. No matter what she played; Mozart, Beethoven, Tchaikovsky, and a lot of Chopin; it just made him all the more awestruck by the lady with the hair as same as his._

'_La Campanella, Liszt.' He orders another one, almost at the edge of his seat._

_The lady smiles and nods at her young and only audience. She places her hands on the keys and starts._

_She executes every note flawlessly as she reads the score in her heart. The piece covered almost every range and every scale on the piano, and sometimes the tempo is fast and the notes intertwine with deadly precision that Hayato thought she'd sprain and twist her fingers at one time. [3] But she finishes gracefully as ever, she bats her eyes to him as if to ask the boy what he would want to hear next._

'_How do you play so well?' he asks._

'_I don't play well, Hayato.' She smiles again. 'I just play the way I want to. I'm just being myself.'_

_XXX_

_He tries to play la Campanella one starry night, but his arms were too short to reach the high keys and play the low keys at the same time._

_There was a time he even fell out of his seat by trying to reach the high keys and he hit his head on the same keys. On some occasion his fingers froze and it hurt like hell, and other times he doesn't sleep nor eat any more because he kept practicing._

'_Why do you try so hard?' Bianchi asked one time as she found her little brother practicing in the dead of night._

'_I'm not trying.' He answers her. 'I'm being myself.'_

_XXX_

He presses the keys and his body follows with him.

'_I understand, mom.'_

He talks to himself as his fingers travel to the high keys.

'_I have found my reason for playing now.'_

He strikes the keys and ends the piece.

He notices a crowd hanging around the shop, all clapping their hands and some, he could even hear whistle.

"What the fuck?" he blurts out.

"They enjoyed your performance." The old man smiles and then, claps his hands. "It's been so long since I've heard la Campanella live."

Realizing what the man had done, his cheeks lit up in embarrassment.

"You old basta–"

Outside, Tsuna was left in awe and Yamamoto was smiling.

"I never knew Gokudera played the piano," he told Vongola's Decimo.

"I didn't know _either._" Tsuna replied. "But it's good to know."

_~Fin~_

**A/N:** [1] the name didn't come from the termite looking Arrancar from bleach, if you were wondering. It was actually a random thing; I decided to name Gokudera's piano from the first thing I grab from my fridge. Luckily, it was a peach marmalade that I picked. I just scanned the back looking for the Italian version of the 'ingredients' and found the translation there.

[2] The piece his mother played is entitled **Polonaise** in AB, Op. 53 by Chopin.

[3] to get what I mean, you have to listen to the said piece.

So there you go. I really hope Gokudera wasn't OOC (but I kinda know he is). Did it suck? Well, if you have anything to say, leave it in the reviews. I'll gladly accept them. :D thanks for reading!


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